


School Shooting

by lopez_reyes7



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Danger, Drama & Romance, F/F, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24197806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lopez_reyes7/pseuds/lopez_reyes7
Summary: Basically the S4 school shooting but Brittana and in S3
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107





	School Shooting

Santana begrudgingly followed Quinn into Glee club and quickly collapsed into her chair at the back, letting out a groan as she did so. There’s a certain level of tiredness that equates to insanity. For Santana, that tiredness occurred in three stages and after cramming for a bio exam the previous night, she had slipped into her second of three stages of tiredness- denial. After her day which involved a bio exam and injuring her ankle while at Cheerios practice, Santana felt she was slipping into the final stage- grumpy. In the final stage of tiredness, Santana knew that she was a pain to be around and that Snixx could appear and unleash her wrath at any moment. The only thing keeping Santana from progressing into that final stage of tiredness was pure will power coming from the knowledge that she hadn’t been in any classes with Brittany, her best friend and girlfriend yet today, and didn’t want to be annoying and moody the only time they’d see each other.

“Hello everyone!” Mr Schue said happily as he walked in, rubbing his hands together excitedly. It was obvious to everyone that he had something planned and Santana sure hoped it didn’t involve Journey songs, disco or rapping, or Snixx was going to be making an appearance.

Skipping in delightedly besides Mr Schue with Finn tagging along behind her was Rachel. “Hello everyone, I would like you too…” Rachel began yet another metaphorical speech that was sure to have proven a point why she should get all of the solos if it weren’t interrupted by two, ear-piercing bangs that seemed to drain all energy from the room, leaving only the quiet hum of the slowly dying fan.

A shriek not dissimilar to how Santana imagined a cow being slaughtered came from the general proximity of where Puck was sitting, earning him a few strange glares, but he seemed to worried to notice.

“Everyone spread out and hide!” Mr Schue shouted as someone, probably Mercedes as she was closest, turned out the lights, and the fan.

Santana, two tired to properly comprehend what was happening felt herself being dragged downwards by Quinn and didn’t resist.

After a few moments of intense silence when the gravity situation finally hit, Santana quietly swore under her breath and winced, covering her ears as another gunshot sounded and echoed for what seemed an eternity.  
“What the hell is happening?” Puck shrieked far too loudly for the liking of Santana.  
“Everyone just stay calm,” Mr Schue said. “I’m sure we’ll all be fine if we just stay in here.”  
“Put your phones on silent,” Rachel demanded, and everyone did so.  
After a few minutes of utter silence, Santana’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but she couldn’t see Brittany anywhere. “Brittany?” she whispered quietly but never got a response as a loud ‘ding!’ sounded.  
“WHO DIDN’T TURN THEIR PHONE OFF!” Rachel whispered loudly and accusatorily only to find the whole room staring at her bag, clearly labelled by her name written in cursive followed by a gold star sticker as it was a ‘metaphor for her being a star’. 

Rachel, not willing to concede that the sound was hers, turned to the closest person to her which happened to be Sam and accused him.  
“I can’t even afford a phone,” he responded sombrely, shutting Rachel up who then proceeded by silencing her phone and sinking into Finn who put a supportive arm around her.

While everyone was alert, Santana said “Brittany?” again more loudly but still no one answered.

Santana and Brittany where nine and it was their first time being home alone without parents in the house. It was getting late and raining too heavily to play outside so Santana suggested watching a movie and Brittany immediately agreed. Together, they heated up some popcorn and got ready for what was sure to be an epic movie marathon.   
Midway through the first movie, Santana noticed Brittany start to become slightly on edge. Pinning it for excitement relating to the movie or energy from a few too many slices of pizza, Santana ignored it. Not ten minutes later however, Brittany’s demeanour changed completely as she hugged her knees to her chest and started whimpering slightly. Her eyes were closed, and it wasn’t even a scary part of the movie.   
“Britt?” Santana asked, using her nickname for Brittany in an attempt to comfort her. “What’s wrong?”  
“Thunder.” Brittany responded quietly.  
Pausing the movie and shuffling closer to Brittany, Santana wrapped her arms around her protectively. To be honest, storms didn’t really bother Santana and she had been too invested in the movie to notice how bad the weather had become. She didn’t understand how people could be scared of thunder. Sure, it was loud, but it was harmless. If anything, lightning was more scary as it could be dangerous and actually destroy things. She wasn’t going to tell Brittany that though.  
As another boom rumbled through the air, Brittany gripped Santana’s arm so tightly she was sure it would leave a mark.   
“Brittany…” Santana groaned through gritted teeth resulting in the blonde immediately letting go and moving away like a frightened animal.   
“Sorry,” Brittany mumbled quietly, fumbling with her hands, feeling stupid and once again retreating into a small ball.   
“Hey,” Santana lulled, realising she had made the blonde feel bad. “I’m completely fine; I just overreacted. That was completely my fault and you don’t have to be sorry,” she hummed while moving a little closer to Brittany again. In reality, it was Brittany’s fault, but Santana hated seeing Brittany sad, though she would never admit that to anyone. In fact, Brittany was probably the only person who Santana would take the blame of anything for. Just earlier that week Brittany had spilt paint on the new carpet at Santana’s house and rather than have Brittany get in trouble, she said it was her own fault. Her Mami had screamed at her about it and punished her by saying Santana couldn’t get ice-cream that afternoon which she had been looking forward to for ages; but it was worth it. For Brittany.   
“Please don’t be sorry,” Santana repeated again.   
Brittany just nodded silently before jumping into Santana and burying her head in her chest as another clap of thunder sounded.   
Once again Santana supportively wrapped her arms around Brittany, wanting her to feel safe. “You know thunder can’t hurt you right?” Santana asked. Brittany nodded in response. “And even if it could hurt you, I wouldn’t let it,” Santana added, looking down on Brittany who was now looking up at her with those bright blue eyes diluted with fear.  
After a few minutes just staying like that, holding and looking at each other, Brittany whispered, “guns can hurt you though.”  
This won her a confused and worried look from Santana. “Is that why you don’t like thunder? Because it reminds you of a gunshot?”   
Brittany just nodded and tightened her grip on Santana, her knuckles turning white from the tension.   
Without need of contemplation, Santana simply stated, “If there’s ever a gun shooting, I’ll be there to protect you. I won’t let you get hurt.”  
Looking up at Santana with soft blue eyes glimmering from unshed tears, Brittany whispered, “promise?”  
“Promise.” Santana responded. And Santana made a pledge to herself that no matter what happened between the two of them, she wouldn’t break that promise. Because the way Brittany had looked; resigned, broken, hollow and undeniably alone, had broken Santana’s heart. 

“Fuck.” Santana swore. She was breaking the one promise she’d ever made and had actually planned on keeping.   
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked quietly. She seemed on edge which worried Santana more than it should. Quinn was her rock. She’d been through a teen-pregnancy and a car-crash that had put her in a wheelchair for five months and didn’t even bat an eye. More than that, Quinn was one of her closest friends. Sure, they’d take each other down more often than not and slap each other sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of habit; but they were also each other’s support crew when nothing else seemed to be going their way. Quinn was the first person Santana had told about being attracted to Brittany. Turns out Quinn was also the first person Brittany had told about being attracted to Santana. And then Quinn not-so-accidentally let it slip while they were having one of their renowned Unholy Trinity sleepovers and the rest is history. If Quinn was concerned, Santana could only imagine how distressed Brittany was.   
“I need to find Brittany,” Santana said as she began to get up.   
“What the hell Santana!” Quinn exclaimed while dragging her back down behind the chairs. “You can’t leave! There is literally someone shooting a gun out there!”  
“That’s exactly why I have to go,” Santana reasoned, trying to break Quinn’s iron grip.   
Santana knew where Quinn was coming from. She had seen news of school shootings on the television. And she’d watched movies where they occurred, many of them with Quinn. Santana knew that the storyline of a girl, leaving a safe place to look for her missing girlfriend or boyfriend didn’t usually have a happy ending. It never had a happy ending really. But that’s why they were horror films. They were meant to be scary. They were not meant to have happy endings. But that didn’t mean Santana going to look for Brittany wouldn’t have a happy ending. It just made a happy ending seem less fathomable; against all odds. But love itself defied all odds. And Santana would be damned if she didn’t at least try.   
“SANTANA!” Quinn snapped. “Going out there is a suicide mission. Now I know we aren’t the nicest of people towards each other all the time, but you are still my best friend. If you went out there and something happened to you and I didn’t do everything in my power to stop you, I couldn’t live with myself; so can you please listen to me for a second.”   
This did get Santana’s attention. In the same situation, if Puck was somewhere outside and Quinn was trying to leave, there was no way in hell Santana would let it happen.   
Brittany is not Puck, Santana reasoned to herself. Brittany is not Puck.  
“Whatever you say Lucy; it isn’t going to stop me.” Santana decided stubbornly, using Quinn’s first name just to get under her skin.   
Quinn, however, didn’t let it faze her. “Santana, Brittany is one of my best friends too. I know that you know that I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. But I can assure you that Brittany would much prefer you staying in here where you’re safe rather than roaming the school trying to look for her! For all we know she could be somewhere just as safe as we are. Now do the mature thing and Sit. Back. Down.”  
Santana considered Quinn’s words, but even all the persuasive techniques of a genius who was sure to get into Yale couldn’t change Santana’s feelings for Brittany and her need to find her.   
Taking a deep breath and ready to unleash Snixx, Santana looked Quinn in the eyes. “But what if Brittany isn’t somewhere safe Quinn!? What if she’s scared and alone and has no one to help her!? What if she gets hurt!? What if she dies!? What if she dies and I wasn’t even there to try and stop it!?” Santana screamed, shocking Quinn enough that she was able to break from her grip and stand up. Her outbreak had gained the attention of the whole room which wasn’t surprising as earlier it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.   
As Santana began walking towards the door, Sam and Mike predictably tried to stop her; but Santana wasn’t going to let that happen and Mr Schue knew it, strategically moving to stand in front of the door.   
“Santana,” Mr Schue began, “I’m sure Brittany is fine. I’m also sure that she would want you to stay safe in here with us rather than go outside to look for her when there is someone in possession of a gun.”  
Santana didn’t respond and instead elbowed Mike in the chest, knowing he was too nice to hurt a girl, and then used his small slip in concentration to get not to the door but to the next best thing, the light switch.  
“If you don’t let me go, I’ll turn on the lights.” Santana stated, looking around the room at her friends shocked faces and blinking a few times to try to rid herself of the guilt that was creeping up on her. Palms beginning to sweat, she wiped them on her Cheerios uniform before lifting her hand towards the switch.  
“Santana, you don’t have to do this,” Mr Schue said softly, trying to calm Santana down.  
“Please come back over here,” Quinn pleaded. Santana just shook her head and looked away from Quinn whose eyes showed unmistakable fear. Her hand began to shake as it drifted ever so close to the switch.  
“If you turn on the light, you’re putting everyone in here in danger,” Mr Schue continued matter of factly, sensing that Santana’s resolve was beginning to break.  
Santana shook her head again. Her legs began to weaken and she felt herself begin to slide down the wall. However, thinking of 9-year-old Brittany’s hopeless, sad, tear-filled blue eyes was all Santana needed to regain her composure. She took a deep breath and stood back up straight; now certain that nothing was going to stop her from finding Brittany.  
“You have to let me go.”  
“You know I’m not going to do that,” Mr Schue responded quickly, still remaining calm although you could see him starting to sweat, and it wasn’t just because of his sweater.  
“But you have to,” Santana said, now filled with courage from the knowledge that she would do anything, absolutely anything if it meant keeping Brittany safe.   
Knowing the only way to approach the situation was to appeal to Mr Schue’s firm morals, Santana applied logic to the situation. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll turn on the light putting the lives of you, me, and everyone else in here at stake. If you do let me go, I’ll be the only one in danger. It’s the only option you have.” Santana paused. “You know what you have to do,” she whispered, “You have to let me go,” she added, voice cracking but only slightly.  
“Please just let her go Mr Schue,” Tina begged, scared out of her mind that Santana might actually go along with her threat and turn the light on.  
Mr Schue waited in front of the door for a little while longer, playing out the different scenarios in his mind before nodding resignedly and stepping away from the door. Santana was right that he would value the safety of the majority. But that didn’t stop him from whispering to her, ‘stay safe’, as she walked past him and out the door. And it didn’t stop Santana from turning to Quinn who had a single tear running down her cheek and mouthing ‘I’m sorry’.

Out the door of the choir room and now unsure of what to do, Santana stood on wobbly legs in the hallway. Beginning to quietly move down the hall, her senses sharpened with fright and adrenaline, Santana held her breath, straining to hear with every ounce of concentration she had left. The constant sound of the 18th century air-conditioner that was in sore need of replacement seemed louder than usual, buzzing like a mosquito that just wouldn’t leave no matter how many times you shooed it away. And the acrid smell of too many clashing deodorants seemed stronger than usual, forcing its way up Santana’s nostrils and making her stomach churn. She felt dizzy and nauseous and sick and really just wanted to lie down and sleep. But she wouldn’t have Brittany beside her. Brittany who made everything feel better. Brittany who smiled that sheepish grin of hers whenever Santana needed it, even if she didn’t know it herself. Brittany who was probably alone and scared out of her mind at the current moment. Brittany who Santana promised she would protect if a scenario such as this ever occurred. So, Santana zoned out the sound of the air-conditioner and the smell of deodorant and concentrated on remaining as quiet as possible as she continued down the hall. So far so good. 

\--------------------------

Brittany had just finished another boring period of U.S. History. She stayed behind after class to talk about her test. She got a C- which her teacher bumped up two whole letter grades because she had written in English rather than the secret language she had made up with Santana in middle-school. Brittany had Glee club next which would be the first time she saw Santana all day. And because of her teacher keeping her back she was going to be late. She knew no one would mind, especially not Santana, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be late. Brittany had only ever been late once before and that was when somebody stole her compass.

Just as Brittany had left her classroom and started making her way to Glee club, a bang, simultaneously followed by another one, stopped her in her tracks. A hurricane of thoughts rushed through her brain, but this was not the time to be indecisive. Brittany couldn’t be stupid. She had to be smart. Dropping her bags and all her books, she ran into the nearest room which happened to be the bathroom. Brittany got into one of the cubicles, closing the door but not locking it and got up onto the toilet seat, standing on her tiptoes so she wouldn’t be seen. She knew what to do. She had been taught this. She knew what to do. She had done it a million times in all of her worst nightmares. Whenever there was a thunderstorm, she would think this through. Only whenever she thought about it, she never left the bathroom alive. 

Brittany’s breathing became more and more rapid, tension growing in her arms and legs as her mind replayed visions of attacks and guns and blood. Her thoughts accelerated inside her head and no matter how she tried she couldn’t slow them down. They were a carousel of fears spinning out of control. As the room began to spin, Brittany squatted on the toilet, trying to slow her thoughts to something her brain and body could cope with. She needed to do something. She needed to call someone. And by someone she meant Santana. But her phone was in her bag which she had dropped in the hallway and she couldn’t go back to get it now. She had to wait. She had to wait, and she had to pray that everything would be okay.

\--------------------------

As Santana continued wandering the hallways, she heard a scurrying sound, so abruptly stopped and pressed herself into the wall, clamping her eyes shut and holding her breath as she began to shake from overwhelming fear. She was scared to open her eyes, but she was even more scared at what she might miss seeing if she kept them closed. As a few seconds passed and nothing seemed to have happened, she opened them slowly, only to see a small, grey rat wiggle through a hole in the wall. Relieved, she let out a sigh. Principal Figgins lack of hygiene in the school had almost given her a heart attack. But the danger was far from over. Still fear filled, Santana took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and urge herself to relax. She had to keep moving because she had to find Brittany.

Continuing down the hall in the direction of the classroom Brittany’s U.S. History classroom, Santana methodically checked all the rooms but there was still no sign of Brittany. Although the silence could be seen as good, it only worried Santana more. It turned her stomach inside out as nerves seemed to eat her up whole. Where was Brittany? And where was the gunman?  
As Santana reached the end of the hallway, she turned right into a corridor with no rooms, only a stretch of lockers that led to the library. Just as she began walking down the corridor, she froze in place as another deafening bang reverberated through the hall. It was far louder than any of the previous ones which could mean only one thing. It was closer. The gunman was closer. And she was surrounded by lockers with nowhere to hide and only one place to run- towards the sound. Suddenly, everything fell away. Every natural body movement was put on hold as complete terror paralysed Santana. The library. She had to get to the library. Now. 

\-------------------------------  
Brittany couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her. Another gunshot had gone off and it sounded closer than any of the previous ones. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. But no one would. No one was there. Brittany prayed that she had gone straight to Glee club. She should have gone straight to Glee club. If she had gone straight to Glee club then she wouldn’t be alone, barely holding back sobs in a bathroom cubicle, the door closed but unlocked as she sat on the toilet seat, her long legs pressed up against her chest so they wouldn’t be seen under the door. If she had gone straight to Glee club she would have Santana. Santana. At the thought of Santana, a muffled cry for help forced its way up her throat, and she felt a wet drop run down her cheek. Choking back louder sobs, Brittany put her hands in her face and squeezed her eyes shut. She had to be quiet. She had to be quiet. She had to be quiet.

\-------------------------------  
Going into a flat-out sprint, Santana felt the screaming of her lungs and the will of her muscles to go far beyond what training, even Sue’s, could ever demand. Her bad foot slipped outwards, bringing Santana down hard onto floor before she immediately jumped back up and continued although her injured ankle protested. The hot Ohio air shocked Santana’s throat and lungs as she had to inhale deeper, faster, louder. Each footfall brought a jarring pain that shot from ankle to knee, ankle to knee. Perhaps she should have just stayed on the floor. But then she’d have no chance of finding Brittany. She kept sprinting, her heart beating frantically. She could see the library. She was almost there. Only five more metres. All or nothing. Keep going.

Just as she crossed through the threshold into the library, Santana collapsed again. She couldn’t tell whether it was from of her ankle or just exhaustion. Probably a combination of the two. She knew she had to get further into the library, hide behind a shelf or something, but her body just didn’t have the power to stand back up. So she crawled. When the pain in Santana’s ankle waned, she was able to move slowly, but when it returned, she could only hold still and breathe, breathe slow and deep until it passed. There was no blood anywhere but Santana could feel her ankle swelling as it pressed painfully against her snug white shoes. Eventually, when Santana had pulled herself along the cold floor to the very back of the library, she sat back up. She squeezed into a corner where there was more shadow than light and more cobwebs than clean space. Dust floated lazily in the air, disturbed by Santana’s desperate rush to hide, and every movement put more of it in the air, making it even more difficult to breath. Spider webs were woven loosely around books, dirtied shelves, and empty tables. No wonder people never came to the library, Santana thought to herself. All that could be heard was Santana’s heavy breathing, the scurrying feet of invisible rodents, and the rustling of papers catching the draft.

\-------------------------

Still in the bathroom, Brittany began falling apart brick by brick as her walls tumbled down. She was scared and alone and clueless towards what was occurring outside her tiny booth. She assumed Santana had made it to Glee but she didn’t know. She didn’t know if Santana was okay. She didn’t even know if she was okay herself. Feeling her heart beat faster and her breathing become louder, Brittany knew she needed to stay calm. She pressed her forehead against the grimy stall door and began to count. 8, 16, 24, 32… Up by eights. Her favourite number. The age she had first met Santana. 72, 80, 88, 96… Just breath. In and out. Everything would be fine. 184, 192, 200, 208…

\-------------------------

Santana’s hands clenched into shaking fists, in a desperate battle to hold the pain in as she felt the muscles of her chin begin to tremble like a small child’s. A lone tear slid from her warm, butterscotch eyes down her cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. Soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed down Santana’s face. She didn’t cry. She never cried. Yet here she was curled up hidden in the back of a library, releasing the feelings that had been held inside of her for so long. But still, she did not make a sound. She knew she had to be absolutely silent. And so, the muffled sobs wracked against her chest. Her world turning into a watery blur. There was static in Santana’s head, the side effect of too much fear, too much concentration, too much worry. It took something out of her she didn't know she had left to give. That's the way it was when people were hard. When their walls, the walls that held them up and made them strong just... collapsed. More salty drops fell from Santana’s chin, wetting her prized Cheerios uniform. She began to shake and pressed her head against the bookshelf and as she shook, the shelf itself began to wobble also, dispersing more dust around the room that only stung Santana’s eyes further. She thought of Brittany’s eyes. So blue, so beautiful, so innocent... And she thought of the gunshot. So loud, so close, so dangerous. And then the thought occurred to Santana that the gunshot could have been aimed at someone. Aimed at Brittany. Brittany who Santana promised to protect. Brittany who could be bleeding out from a wound Santana wasn’t there to stop. The thought made her gag. Santana refused to let that happen. So she dragged herself up off the floor, wiped the tears away from her eyes and began moving again. Every step felt like a nail bomb exploding in her leg. If it wasn't for Brittany she’d curl right up on the floor and wait til the pain went away. But she promised she’d be there, so she continued into the next room.

\--------------------

The door had opened. Someone was here. The gunman was here. And Brittany was defenceless. Brittany pressed back further on the seat. As far away from the door as she could get. She heard footsteps entering the room and squeezed her eyes shut yet tears still managed to escape. She held her breath, hoping her brain was just playing tricks on her. She had to be imagining things. It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t.

And then.

And then.

“Brittany?” a soft, scared voice called out.

Brittany opened her eyes.

“Santana?” she asked just as timidly.

A pause.

“Brittany!” the achingly familiar voice repeated more confidently.

Jumping out of the toilet and running out of the cubicle Brittany found herself standing face-to-face with Santana whose eyes were red and puffy indicating she had been crying. But that didn’t make sense. Because Santana never cried.

“Britt,” Santana said, her voice cracking as another tear rolled down her cheek.

Brittany didn’t need to respond and instead wrapped Santana into a tight hug, burying her face in her hair and taking in her scent as she began to cry herself. She wasn’t alone. Santana had found her.

\--------------------

Regaining her composure, Santana pulled away from Brittany and ran her hands up and down Brittany’s arms, surveying any damage and ensuring she was okay. Santana cleared her voice before asking, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Umm, yeah,” Brittany mumbled. “I’m okay now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Santana asked gently, squeezing Brittany’s shoulder. 

“Well, I got a C- on my history exam.”

“Good job Britt!” Santana congratulated, hugging her again. Santana knew that marks were important to Brittany who didn’t always do the best in school and was often referred to as stupid. But Santana knew that Brittany wasn’t stupid. In fact, Britt was one of the smartest people Santana knew, just in a different way. 

“My teacher bumped me up two grades cause I wrote in English and not the language we made up together in middle-school,” Brittany explained, giggling. Santana laughed too. 

“But since she was telling me this after class, I knew I was going to be let out late and then arrive late to Glee.” Brittany paused. “When I finally got out, I was putting my things back in my bag when a gunshot went off,” Brittany explained, voice wavering. “I wasn’t sure it was a gun at first; maybe I was just imaging things, but then another shot went off so I dropped my stuff and ran in here.” Brittany hurriedly wiped some tears that were dripping down her cheeks and Santana brushed back some hair that was hanging in her face. “I hid in the cubicles like we were taught to, but it was so scary, San. I wanted to call you or text you or something but I didn’t have my phone. When another gunshot went off, I started to cry but I had to choke it back because I was being too loud and I knew I had to stay silent so I wouldn’t be found.” 

Santana drew Brittany into a tight hug and didn’t care about the tears wetting her Cheerios uniform because they were Brittany’s. And Santana would let anything happen if it made Brittany feel better. She was more than glad that she found Brittany, but she couldn’t help thinking that she should’ve come faster. What if she hadn’t waited in the library for so long and just pressed on? She shouldn’t have let her ankle slow her down either. Her thoughts were disrupted when Brittany continued telling Santana what happened. 

“Eventually I started counting up by 8’s. It probably sounds silly but it calms me down. Maths is the one subject I understand and 8 is my favourite number because that’s how old we were when we first met.”

“That’s not silly, Britt; that’s adorable,” Santana cooed, kissing her softly on the cheek before letting her continue the story. 

“But then the door opened, and I freaked out. I thought that the gunman had found me and that I was going to get shot like in all of my dreams. I closed my eyes because I thought that if I couldn’t see what was going on then maybe it wouldn’t happen. But then I heard your voice. And you were calling my name. And then everything was okay again,” Brittany explained, looking up at Santana for the first time since she began recounting what had happened. She was smiling but the fear in her eyes was undeniable and Santana kicked herself once again for not getting to her faster. 

“What happened for you?” Brittany asked. 

Santana took a deep breath and stepped back from Brittany. She reminded herself that what had happened was in the past and there was no need to be scared by it. She would deliver it like statistics. There didn’t have to be emotions, just the facts. 

“I was in Glee club,” Santana began. “I was really tired but I stayed awake and out of my grumpy stage because I couldn’t wait to see you. Then Mr Schue, the Dwarf and Finnocence walked in and I was very close to losing my cool when Berry started one of her speeches. Then two gunshots went off. I was too tired to comprehend what was happening but Quinn pulled me behind the chairs. Puck screamed like a little girl and Rachel told everyone to put their phones on silent. Then her own phone rung but she blamed Sam who doesn’t even have a phone. This whole time I couldn’t see you anywhere. I thought back to when we were nine and at your house alone for the first time watching a movie. There was a thunderstorm and you got really scared because it reminded you of a gunshot. I promised you that if there was ever a shooting, I’d be there beside you. That’s the first promise I ever made and intended to keep. But I wasn’t keeping it because I wasn’t with you. So, I left, and I found you,” Santana explained. 

“Wait; so you left Glee club to come get me?” Brittany asked, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world when Santana replied with “yep”. 

“How?” Brittany questioned. “There’s no chance Mr Schue would let you leave, let alone Quinn. And how did you find me? What happened when the other gunshot went off?”

“Well,” Santana answered, “Quinn really didn’t want me to leave but I wasn’t going to let her or anyone else stop me from finding you. Sam and Mike grabbed me when I started towards the door but they were easy enough to get past. Mr Schue complicated things by guarding the door. There was no way I was going to get past him so instead I ran towards the light switch.” 

This caused Brittany to inhale sharply. “No.” 

“Yes,” Santana replied. “I told them that if they didn’t let me leave I would turn on the lights; so, they let me go.”

“What happened next?” Brittany inquired, interested to see how Santana got to her.

“I was walking down the corridor when a rat scurried across the floor,” Santana continued, not letting any emotion enter her voice. “I didn’t know it was a rat at the time so I pressed myself into the wall and held my breath.” 

“That must’ve been so scary,” Brittany said, shuddering at the thought.  
“It was,” Santana responded, still devoid of emotion. She wasn’t going to go into detail about how terrifying everything actually was, or let her voice display her fright. For one, she didn’t want to have to relive the moments, but she didn’t want to make Brittany feel bad either. 

“When I realised it was just a rat, I continued forward and checked all the rooms, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. Eventually I got to the corridor that just had lockers on both sides and that went towards the library.” Santana clenched her hands for what was coming next, but Brittany didn’t notice. 

“I was walking down that corridor when the third gunshot went off. There were no rooms to run into and I couldn’t turn and go back so I ran towards the sound as fast as I could to get to the library,” Santana described, her voice breaking. She squeezed her fists tighter. “Then I tripped.” 

Brittany quickly closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around Santana, holding her up as her legs became weak. “San…” Brittany started but Santana didn’t stop talking.

“I considered just staying there.”

“No…” Brittany barely whispered. 

“But, I knew I couldn’t so I got back up and kept running down the hall as fast as I could.” 

By this point Santana had tears streaming down her face for the second time in less than an hour and was sobbing almost too hard to draw breath and continue speaking. But if there was anyone who could speak even in the most challenging of situations, it was Santana. So she continued. 

“When I got to the library I collapsed again and didn’t have it in me to stand back up. I crawled through to the back of the library and hid in the shadows crying. My ankle hurt so much and I was scared to think of what was happening outside. I wanted to just stay hidden in my corner until everything just went away. But then I thought of you.” 

Brittany gasped but continued to hold Santana up and listen as she told her story, even though her eyes were now wet with tears also.

“I thought about how the bullet fired may have hit you. That you could be somewhere helpless without me. So, I stood back up and kept going. I’m just glad that the next room was the bathroom,” Santana finished. 

Brittany moved her hands from around Santana’s back and instead cupped her face, kissing her passionately. Santana returned the kiss, forgetting everything that was happening and just focusing on Brittany until they were interrupted by a shrill echoing bang. Brittany immediately froze, her eyes darting from Santana to the door and back to Santana while the rest of her body remained tense. Santana acted quickly however, grabbing Brittany’s hand and dragging them into the nearest cubicle, adrenaline rushing through her blood and causing her heart to race. She tried to focus on any sounds indicating the position of the gunman but couldn’t concentrate on anything with Brittany acting so distressed beside her. 

“Shhhhhh,” Santana comforted, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, Britt. It’s all okay. I’m here now. Nothing’s gonna happen. You’re safe.”

Santana’s words seemed to have the desired effect with Brittany nodding and quieting down. She laid her head on Santana’s chest and listened to her heartbeat; pretending it was just another Friday night at her house on the couch. It worked for a while, until the bathroom door opened, and Santana’s heartrate sped up drastically. This was no Friday date night. 

Brittany and Santana both held their breaths, hoping they wouldn’t be heard. A sound of doors slamming echoed through the small space and Santana immediately realised that the shooter was opening all the door to check no one was inside. Thankfully the girls were in one of the stands closer to the end, but that still wasn’t much time to formulate a plan. 

“Britt,” Santana whispered quickly to Brittany who was now trembling from fear. “I need you to promise me to stay in here unless you here three knocks on the door okay. No matter what. You have to promise me.”

“W-Why?” Brittany questioned. The gunman was getting closer, there were only a few more stalls before whoever it was would reach them. 

“No time,” Santana responded. “Just promise me okay.”

“I-I promise.”

Santana nodded her head, satisfied with Brittany’s response. “I love you Britt. I love you to infinity. You truly are the best thing that’s ever been mine,” Santana whispered to her before planted a quick but emotionally charged kiss on Brittany’s lips. 

As the stall before Santana and Brittany’s slams against the wall, Santana quickly jumped out of her cubicle, leaving Brittany inside before collapsing to her knees, her head down as she sobbed “please don’t shoot me, please don’t shoot me,” over and over again. 

\--------------------

Brittany quickly clamped her hand over her mouth as Santana jumped out the door, forcing back anguished cries. Santana was gone. Santana had left Glee to find Brittany and as soon as she had, she sacrificed herself. It was cruel the way the world worked. Giving you the tiniest bit of hope before taking it away and replacing it with pure misery. Santana had sacrificed herself for Brittany, and the least Brittany could do was stay quiet so that it wouldn’t all be for nothing. So Brittany cried silently, tears catching on her long lashes and pointy nose as she strained to hear what was happening outside the door. 

\--------------------

“Santana. Get your ass off the floor,” Santana heard a familiar voice order before another one quickly refuted, “Sue, leave her alone. Just take your time Santana.” 

Looking up with tears still flooding down her face, Santana released a breath she didn’t realise she was holding as she said, “Sue. Mr Schue.”

“We’re here now Santana,” Mr Schue comforted as Sue opened up the rest of the cubicles. But she never opened the one Brittany was in. So if it had be a gunman then Brittany would have been safe. So Santana had done what she needed to. Brittany was fine. And somehow she was fine too; even though she didn’t feel like it.

“It’s all going to be okay. It’s safe. We promise.” Mr Schue reassured, kneeling down next to Santana. 

Santana found herself nodding and beginning to stand up. She heard Sue say something, but it sounded distant and muffled. She walked backwards, bumping into the sink as though she wasn't expecting it. She began to move about the room like there was a hurricane inside her. Santana’s eyes were wild and when Sue made her sit, she started rocking, rocking, rocking. The rocking got faster and faster and faster until she exploded into motion again. Suddenly Santana was taking. She was talking like she didn't have enough time to say what she needed to. Talking but she didn’t even know what she was saying. Her words were crowded together, and some missing completely. Her sentences were fragmented, and her thoughts seemed to jump from one thing to another. All Santana’s fears tumbled out unchecked by her brain, in some kind of mental free-fall. Her voice came out thin and distant, "What, but, no, it didn't, that's... not... right..." Santana's breathing was all wrong and she began to gasp like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air.

“Santana. You have to calm down.” Santana heard Sue demand but her body refused to comply. She began shaking uncontrollably and when she felt Mr Schue’s hands gently rest on her shoulders she shrugged them off. She didn’t want Mr Schue. She didn’t want Sue. She wanted distance. She wanted space. But most of all she wanted Brittany. 

Brittany. 

Still in the cubicle. 

Only three taps away.

Sliding across the floor until her back touched the cubicle, Santana leaned her head back on the cold metal before banging the door three times.

\--------------------

Three taps were all it took for Brittany to spur into action. As soon as she heard them, she leapt off the seat and out the door only to come face to face with Mr Schue and Sue who were both standing staring at Brittany, their mouths wide. Their gazes shifted from Brittany, down to Santana and then back up to Brittany, only just realising the sacrifice Santana had been prepared to make. 

Seeing Santana sitting on the ground, Brittany quickly kneeled down beside her and plastered kisses on her face. There was a distance in Santana's eyes that scared Brittany. That look didn’t belong on Santana’s face. Santana was the one that found Brittany. Santana was the one that saved her. Santana had to be okay. But she was laying back with her eyes closed against the bathroom door, struggling to regulate her breathing. Brittany helped ease Santana into a sitting position where she could take in breath more easily. Santana’s fingers were white-knuckled as she held onto Brittany and asked if everything she was okay. Brittany told her yes. Brittany told her over and over, stroking her long black hair and planting kisses on her face, telling her she loved Santana to infinity. And eventually Santana seemed to finally believe her as she relaxed and lent back into Brittany, tilting her head to kiss her softly.

“I’ll love you to infinity Santana.”  
“I’ll love you too infinity too, Britt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think so please leave a review!
> 
> \- I do not own Glee or any copyrighted material or characters


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